


This is Fair Grounds for Ferris

by Catatonic



Category: Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)
Genre: 80s movies, Chicago, Fair, Gen, Summer, boardwalk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:44:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catatonic/pseuds/Catatonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ferris, Sloane, and Cameron go to an annual summer fair at the local boardwalk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Fair Grounds for Ferris

**Author's Note:**

> Lighthearted, random. First time writing about 'Bueller' Gang. Characterizations may or may not feel a little off. Feedback appreciated. Enjoy :)

Cam looked up at the sky, for what was approximately the umpteenth time that afternoon, his throat clenched and his eyes wet with pleading to a greater entity above. The world-weary, diffident, seventeen, slumped himself on the nearest bench. The sun blistered boards creaked beneath his feet. His head bobbed; the boards creaked again. Many musics were in ear shot. He shut his eyes, hoping the present wash of sickness would ride swiftly over him. A hand touched his shoulder. He shuddered, recoiling slightly.

“Hi, Cam.” It was Sloane that said this. She was wearing a pink denim jacket, a fairly new one (apparently), she leaned in, giving Cam a familial peck on the neck and placing her elbows on the top of the bench, occupied by subtle splotches of gull poo. “Didn’t mean to be late,” she added.

“Hello.” Cam’s face was green. Greener then the bird poo.

Sloane groaned. “D’you have a napkin on you, Cam?”

“Sor-ry.” He giggled slightly.

“Why the long face?” The breeze blew Sloane’s hair about (she looked a bit like a model for shoot). She revealed her ever present pucker of coolly played perplexity.

“Oh… You know me.”

“Ah,” said Sloane, almost fondly – retrospectively. “Salt and heights, huh?” She sat down next to him, this time making a note of the animal wastes. “And where is Ferris at this time?” She stirred around in her purse one last time, hoping she had only thrice overlooked a handkerchief.

Cameron drew his lips together. “Around.” Sullenly, he added “Said he was just grabbing a coke.”

Sloane shook her head. The trio had been to the boardwalk before, lots of times. They go to the fair nearly every year – what scheme was even left for her friend-fiancé to pull in this kind of situation?

Peterson pulled Cam by the hand, peeling him away from his post. He had gotten most comfortable, being hypnotized from the evenly swaying gondola lifts – the cause of his present nausea.

“We can’t ‘completely rely on Bueller’ to have fun, can we?” She said, teasing. That was one of freshman year bullies’ slogans. “Let’s get some of those famous fries, Frye. We’re bound to run into Ferris…or at least into someone he knows,” she laughed.

 

There was a long line in front of the fry stand. 

“Just get me a small one.” Cam raised a demonstrative finger.

“It’s a long line, Cam. You sure?”

“Yeah, Sloane.”

“You probably haven’t eaten yet today.”

“I have so,” said Cameron defensively. Cam shuffled his feet, rolled his eyes as close friends do. “I felt sick.” He puffed out his cheeks.

Sloane looked at him knowingly. “Okay. You don’t have anything in your stomach at this moment.”

“That is correct.”

“We’ll share a big one.” She nodded once and stepped toward the counter, turning her back to Cam, who proceeded to make goofy faces behind her, sticking his tongue out. Cameron’s childish antics did not go completely unnoticed, for there were many hungry by-standers. 

 

“Last one.” Sloane dangled the thin piece of potato between Cameron's crossing eyes. Cam gagged.

“You don't think Papa Bueller already drug him home by the ears, do you?”

“Cam. You are talking about our Ferris, aren't you? The penny peep show doesn't open for another hour.” They looked at one another stiffly. “He's still here.” They spoke simultaneously.

Cameron placed his hands in either pockets; he tilted his back, shading his eyes with his palms, looking around for any signs of their cocky comrade. The heat of the day was dwindling down, the sun still hanging bright and high, and the breeze had significantly softened. 

The sounds of collective awe began to gather, and there was a swell of upbeat music suddenly. Scent of duel flavoured candy floss tickled the surrounding air.

“Ladies and gentleman!” called a voice in grandiose fashion. This caught the attention of both Cameron and Sloane, making their way to where the commotion had started, where a young man was standing on a makeshift platform, the cord to his microphone tucked under the trimming of the sweater vest he was wearing.

“Boys and, really cute,” the voice coughed, “girls!” He wrinkled his nose irksomely, winking at Sloane.

Cam burst out laughing, uncontrollably, at the sight of his buddy working the crowds, the size of the dupe and the obvious lies the people had been buying quite readily. Cameron sniggering at the sight of Sloane's incredulity, put his arm around her to support himself from landing on his knees in fits. She glared at Cam, her arms were then folded, but made a mean fist toward Ferris.

“The Ferris Wheel!” Ferris bowed.

“The circular shape illustrates never ending love,” falsified Ferris.  
“Its creator once said that a constructed monument should only compare to the monumental appeal of what it represents, what it symbolizes.” 

“My father, Tomas Bueller, built this thing back in eight . . .nineteen seventy-six.” Bueller licked his lips sheepishly. 

Ferris grinned. These kids were suckers, though a marked few had walked away when they witnessed Cameron's destruction. 

“It's really very simple,” went on Ferris, sweetly. He put his hand to his heart. “My father wanted to show the world how much he appreciated raising his son – Me.” 

Sloane sighed, shaking her head. “He's hopeless,” she thought. There was nothing she could do but hope Ferris would give up his act sooner than later.

Cameron's head ached. He was now in tears, pinching his eyes shut, crouching in an almost fetal position. He was still laughing. 

“Ladies and Gentleman, I am sad to say it is time for my departure. I have some pennies left over, and, well, it's almost five o'clock. He raised his brows. Without further ado, go forth, ride, and think of me when you do.” 

Someone clapped excitedly, and Ferris hopped off his stage. He took Sloane in his arms, planting an obnoxious kiss. 

“How'd I do, baby?” He said, clicking his teeth. 

Cameron stood up to chew Ferris out, but could not find the appropriate seriousness at the moment. “Here's to hoping your mother didn't participate in the bake off this year.” Cam nudged him. “They hold it just across the row,” he cringed.

Ferris Bueller shrunk.


End file.
